I'm Sick of Chinese Food

Welcome to The Nitpicker.Jason Kessler loves to complain almost as much as he loves to eat. Join him on his journey through the imperfect universe of food.

(Credit: Erik S. Peterson)

I am a disappointment to my friends and family. And it's not because I chose to become a professional complainer instead of a doctor or, you know, an actor who plays a doctor on TV. No, I have committed a greater sin: I don't like Chinese food. I'm sorry, Billions of Chinese People, but I do not enjoy your culture's food. I dislike it so much that I'm willing to ignore the fact that "Chinese food" is not a single category but a nuanced, regional set of cuisines that has evolved over millennia. I'm also willing to look past the reality that most of what I've consumed as "Chinese food" is actually "the American interpretation of Chinese food." It's irrational, I know. It's offensive, I know. It's just... how I am. Sorry. I'm sick of Chinese food and have been my entire life.

Before I go any further, Gung Hay Fat Choy! to all my Chinese friends and readers. Enjoy the New Year! Now please stop reading. You're not going to like what I have to say.

Chinese takeout was always perfect for family dinners. Nobody had to cook, everybody got to share, and somebody inevitably made the Wayne's World "cream of sum yung gai" joke. For me, though, it was a constant source of torment. Would I be forced to confront my fear of baby corn and bamboo buttons? How much white rice can one kid eat? Whose sick idea of a joke is egg foo yung? After a while, I was able to convince my dad to stop at a nearby hot dog spot for me when the rest of the family wanted Chinese. Nothing says "odd man out" like the kid eating a hot dog while the rest of the clan fumbles with chopsticks.

Every time I try Chinese food, I have the same response: Nope. Take the sauces. (Please!) Gloppy doesn't even begin to describe them. That viscous, corn-starchy mess seems to come in only two colors, and they both resemble bodily fluids. It's the most visually unappealing food imaginable.

Then there's the meat. Before you get all up-in-arms about stereotypes and *ahem* pets, please know that I'm not making any insinuations of that sort. I'm merely saying that in almost every meat-based Chinese dish I've attempted to eat, the protein appears to be of questionable quality. The beef is tough and flavorless, the chicken is unlike any chicken I've ever seen, and the shrimp looks like it's been subjected to Willy Wonka's shrinking microwave. So I must repeat: Nope.

It's a shame. Not enjoying Chinese food has led me to be excluded from countless dinners. I'm subjected to ridicule by my Jewish brethren. On Christmas Day, I eat two full meals of movie theater popcorn instead of Chinese. Occasionally, dim sum sounds appealing...and yet I always pass. I know I'm going to be disappointed. I just can't get beyond my own stupid mental block that Chinese food is good, despite the fact that I live less than 50 miles from one of the largest Chinese expat communities in the United States. Seriously, the food in Southern California's San Gabriel Valley is supposed to be incredible, and my own culinary prejudices are getting in the way of me enjoying it.

I want to like Chinese food because I like fitting in, but it's just not going to happen. I don't want to serve in General Tso's army and I think orange chicken is a really sick joke on the idea of canard à l'orange. One day, I like to think, I'll wake up and be in the mood for Mongolian beef. I'd like to wake up taller, too. It's anyone's guess which will happen first.